Hey, I'm back with another update! Thank you so much for following, favoriting, and reviewing! It always makes me so happy to see, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.

Our Peaceful Days Have Gone

Akira slumped over the kitchen table, the ice in her glass clinking as she swirled it around. She soon stopped, though, as the noise only made the pounding in her head worse. She yanked the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and pulled the ties, leaving just her nose peeking out as she attempted to will away her dreadful hangover.

Kei placed her hands on her hips and sighed. "I reminded you that sugary drinks would only make your headache worse. Do you even remember how many you had last night?"

Akira loosened the ties enough so that her mouth was also poking out, taking a small sip from her ice water. "It was ladies' night at the club, so probably," she counted on her fingers, "ten margaritas or so? And way too many shots of vodka. Did you know that orange-flavored vodka existed? I certainly didn't—"

Kei frowned. "Stop trying to change the subject."

Akira wilted in her seat, guiltily taking another sip of ice water through a bendy-straw. "Look, I'll go to the supermarket today, you should take a break—"

Waving dismissively, Kei found a pack of sticky notes and a pen. "Unnecessary, I can manage on my own—you need to recover from your hangover, anyway." She pulled the pen's cap off with her teeth and bent over the table. "What do we need?"

Akira held up her fingers and counted. "Milk, eggs, ground pork, cabbage—"

"Please slow down, I can't write that fast."

Akira stretched her arms out and pressed her cheek against the cool surface of the table, sighing at the contact. "Bananas, oranges—"

"What do we need oranges for?"

"Mom and Dad are coming home in a couple days, so I wanted to make an orange upside-down cake for them."

"Do you even know how to do that?"

"Unimportant."

Kei rolled her eyes. "Continue."

"Bread, fish—

"Mmhm."

"—and mochi ice cream."

As Kei shot Akira a pointed look, the older sister shrugged. "I'm in pain and have a headache—"

"—that you caused."

She sunk into her seat. "Point taken, but you know you want mochi ice cream, too."

Ripping the sticky note off, Kei grabbed her house key and wallet. "Fine," she relented.

Akira cheered and pumped her fist in the air.

After tucking the shopping list into her pocket, Kei gave her sister a parting wave. "I'm leaving now. Be sure to keep drinking water, and please," she opened the door and fixed Akira with a warning glare, "no alcohol."

She received an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. "You got it!"

The door shut behind her, and Akira resumed pressing her face into the kitchen table. "This feels so much better."

Today was a beautifully sunny Saturday morning, and Izaya was bored.

There was no one important around to toy with; everyone was either at home eating breakfast in front of their TV or out and about with their friends at fancy cafés and the like. Izaya didn't have friends like that (he really didn't have friends at all), and he wasn't interested in acting like the typical proverbial sheep and wasting his day away.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, idly rubbing his fingertips against the polished case of his switchblade. There were a few bakeries he passed, the most interesting of them being the battleground between a severely mismatched couple. The girl was loudly claiming that her significant other was a cheating dirtbag whilst said significant other—lovingly dubbed a "cheating dirtbag"—was desperately attempting to convince his raging girlfriend that it was not the case.

Izaya shrugged carelessly. He had seen the boyfriend enter a jewelry shop earlier to purchase an engagement ring for his ornery lover.

Really, Izaya thought, what a waste of money.

It was while the man was conversing with the owner of the shop that the woman saw her boyfriend "cheating on her" and decided to annoyingly take action, much to the displeasure of the shoppers around them.

The only thing that made Izaya's thoughts dwell on the couple in the first place was because he considered the possibility of them splitting over an insignificant argument and learning to regret that mistake for the rest of their natural lives, but that in itself was already too predictable to him. And now that he recognized its predictability, he was bored once again.

He was just about to consider heading home, despite the fact that his irritating sisters still existed, until he identified a certain face. In that moment, his boredom vanished.

Over by the entrance to a fresh produce store stood Amane Kei. Her dark hair was messily braided and pulled into a crown, although her bangs still stuck out from it. The hem of her short-sleeved shirt dress fluttered in the breeze as she leaned down to search through the many grocery bags around her feet. Izaya could practically see the check list she was meticulously marking in her head, watching carefully as her eyes flitted from each bag. A cantaloupe was tucked between her shoes as if it were an ostrich egg, and he couldn't help but laugh at the mental comparison. Then, seemingly satisfied, she picked up her groceries in one swoop, plucked the cantaloupe up from the ground by its netting, and continued on her way.

He saw many things in the next few moments. He saw her shoulders droop as a box of mochi ice cream tipped out of one of the bags. He saw her bend down to pick it up, the toes of her white shoes scuffing against the pavement as she tucked the box back in its rightful place. He also saw that when she bent over, an older man's eyes flicked down shamelessly, while a lecherous grin spread across his cracked and pale face.

Kei had been consistent in her reactions to all of the things he had thrown at her so far (or, in one specific case, that Shizuo had thrown at her). Each time it was the same hardened gaze, the same calm face, the same tense shoulders.

However, those were all in situations where she had a small semblance of control, where she herself could decide the influence she would have on other people. What would happen if he pressed the boundaries? What would she do? What could she do?

Izaya's goals had stayed the same since he first met her. He wanted to see all sides of her, good and bad. To be the one to witness her in every state of emotion, whether it be happy, sad, angry, fearful, kind, or lustful—to see any of those in their full-fledged glory would surely be a treat.

That was what drove him to approach the filthy man who was still eyeing Kei as she stopped at a food stand and bought takoyaki. He gently tapped the man on the shoulder. At the contact, the man seemed to snap out of his creeping gaze, and he turned to glare at the apparently harmless teenager.

"What do you want, kid?"

Izaya noted that his breath stank with cheap alcohol. "You were looking at that girl, right?" He pointed over to Kei, and the man immediately started sweating.

"Look, I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you thought it was—"

Izaya smiled and quickly waved his hand. "No, you misunderstand! See, I'm one of her dear friends, and I thought you should know that she kind of has a thing for older gentlemen such as yourself."

That piqued the man's interest. "Yeah?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Izaya placed a hand on his hip. "Yup, she's a real wild card, that one." Then, he placed a finger on his chin and gave the man a questioning look. "You're not interested in her, are you?"

"Well, I, uh—you see, um—"

Izaya gave him a hearty pat on the back. "No need to be shy, my good man! I was just asking because she's been bombarded the past few weeks with love offers, but she always turns them down. She keeps complaining about how lonely she is, too, like, 'Oh, Tadashi-kun, when will I ever find love?'" He mockingly placed his hands over his heart before turning back to the man. "You know, I think a standup guy like you has a real chance with her!"

"You really think?"

"Totally! Oh, and don't worry about the year gap or anything, not that someone like you would ever worry in the first place. Age is but a number, after all!" Giving the man a hearty slap on the back, Izaya laughed. The stranger chuckled along nervously before tottering off in Kei's direction.

Izaya watched him leave with a smirk. Let's see how you fare with this, Kei-chan!

Of course, he would never let the strange man get too frisky. Kei was his and his alone, after all.

A strange feeling crept into Kei's mind.

Her day had started normally, and there was no explanation for how unsettled she suddenly felt. It was a recognizable anxiety, as if she could sense that someone was watching her from a distance.

She then realized the cause for its familiarity—it was the same feeling she got when she was with Izaya. A mixture of calm and fearful, as if he constantly existed in the few moments before a match was struck, before a glass hit the ground, before a drop of ink stained a piece of paper. Talking with him made her uncomfortable, and she knew why.

Every time he conversed with her, he always tried to do the same thing. He wanted to break her open, to see the inner workings of her mind and fidget with the gears. Izaya, she realized, was the kind of person who only did things that benefitted himself, regardless of whether or not someone else was negatively affected. In fact, sometimes he went the extra mile just to ensure that someone would be negatively affected. He was completely unpredictable, and that made her feel vulnerable.

She despised it.

At the same time, nobody had ever been so interested in the dissection of her character. Actually, nobody really approached her in general. She didn't act like most people, didn't think like most people, didn't live like most people—therefore, to most people, she was unwelcome.

She couldn't decide if she was more curious to see what Izaya's ulterior motive was or more annoyed at how invested he'd become in the intricate details of her personality. Either way, it was creepy.

Distracted by her own thoughts, Kei nearly missed something brush against the back of her neck. Believing it to be Izaya, she whipped around, her hand shooting out and grabbing the wrist of whoever had touched her.

It was not Izaya, that she knew for sure.

The shaking wrist she had in her iron grip belonged to a mangy-looking businessman who seemed to be approaching his forties. White hairs were springing up at his roots, and dead skin was flaking off of his chin, getting caught in the gruff stubble there. Kei immediately released him, her eyes giving him an uneasy once-over.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I mistook you for someone else," she said, attempting to remain polite in the face of his unsettling grin.

The man smiled wider, exposing yellow teeth, and waved his hand dismissively. "It's alright, I shouldn't have scared the young lady."

Assuming the interaction to be over, Kei gave him a cordial nod and turned away, only to have his hand grip hers and pull her back around. "Excuse me—"

"Why don't you let me make it up to you, beautiful?"

Kei gently tried to tug her hand out of his grip. "No thank you—"

The man seemed to grow frustrated with her response. "Huh? Why not? I thought you liked older men."

Now she was thoroughly confused. "What on earth gave you that idea? I have never met you before in my life."

His fingers tightened around her wrist painfully. "That guy, that friend of yours, he told me that you were desperate to find love! Come on, why don't you just gimme a chance?"

"Friend?" A sudden realization struck her, and Kei's eyes darkened in fury. That bastard! Attempting once more to twist her hand away, she said, "I'm not sure what that 'friend' told you, but I'm not interested—"

At that moment, the disgusting leech threw away any sense of reason. As she tried to turn away, he forcefully yanked her back into his chest. Kei let out a sharp gasp as she felt the bones in her wrist crack.

"Stop playing hard to get!" the man crowed. Surprisingly, despite the raucous scene he was making, no passersby interfered. "A little slut like you just wants to make everyone else feel like they're below you, when actually you're just a dirty bitch!" In one rough movement, the man gripped the front of her dress and pulled her close, puffing his filthy breath on her neck.

Kei's right hand weakly tried to pry his fist away while the other hung uselessly by her side. Her grocery bags lay abandoned at her feet, a few oranges rolling out from them. In the back of her mind, she hoped that the eggs she bought weren't crushed.

If only she could use her other hand—then she wouldn't be in this ridiculous predicament. However, for some strange reason, it wasn't regenerating. She could feel the bones attempt to push themselves together, only to bounce back as if they were being stretched by a rubber band. Something must have been out of place, like a wrench thrown in the works.

Wonderful, Kei thought, gritting her teeth as the pain looped back around. She shut her eyes as the man's face inched closer and closer, powerless to stop him.

Suddenly, there was a strangled shriek. Kei was jerkily released, and she opened her eyes immediately, looking for the source of the sound.

The repulsive man was huddled on the ground, squealing like an asthmatic pig as blood spurted from his hand. A blade had gone straight through it, its shining surface marked with red streaks.

Panting quietly as she attempted to quell her thundering heartbeat, Kei glanced to where Izaya stood behind him, twirling a pocketknife between his fingers.

"Hey, what was all that? I thought you were interested in little Kei-chan over there!" Izaya grinned sinisterly, staring down at the groveling man with an unnerving gaze.

"Y-You lied to me, you bastard! She fucking rejected me!" the man sputtered, pointing a bloodied finger in her direction.

Izaya shrugged. "What else did you expect? You thought that after you called her a—what was it again?—oh, right, a 'dirty bitch,'" Izaya ground the last part out venomously, pressing the heel of his shoe into the man's injured hand and producing another pathetic whine. "You really thought that she would fall for you?"

The man only replied with a gargled whimper. With a bored sigh, Izaya lifted his foot, and the man scrambled away on all fours, drops of blood trailing behind him. Turning to face Kei's wrathful gaze, he cheerily skipped over and sidled up to her.

"Are you alright, Kei-chan? That guy was a real tool, wasn't he?"

Kei didn't respond, choosing instead to pick up her fallen groceries. Once she had gathered them all, she walked away with an unexpected calm. Izaya's smile did not fall as he trailed behind her, folding his arms behind his back.

"I'm sorry, did I make you mad, Kei-chan?"

No response.

"I saved you so heroically, though! What would have happened if I wasn't there?"

Still no response.

Izaya smirked and lifted his hand, moving to poke her cheek. "You know, Kei-chan's actually pretty cute when she's mad—"

Before he could touch her, Kei's head snapped back, and she fixed him with a cold stare. Izaya's smile only widened.

After a tense moment, Kei let out a deep breath, her body visibly deflating. "I need to go home, Izaya-san. Aki-nee is waiting for me."

"Nonsense, you can stay out a little bit longer!" Izaya said, grabbing her wrist. He instantly noticed her wince at the contact, and his gaze fell to the ugly mark coloring the skin there. Holding her wrist up delicately, he shot her a curious glance. "Shouldn't this have regenerated by now?"

Kei gave him a fed-up look, as if all she wanted to do was escape this conversation. "There is something caught in between that is preventing it." Without a moment's pause, she held her other hand up. "I can fix it myself," she said as she turned away.

However, to her surprise, his grip held firm. Before she could say anything in response, there was a loud crash, and the pressure of his hand was gone. With wide eyes, she looked to where he lay a few meters away from her, a dented vending machine lying next to him. A small crowd had gathered around the scene, and they looked on in awe as loose soda cans rolled between their legs.

Pushing her bangs to the side, Kei gazed at the bakery across the street and met the eyes of Heiwajima Shizuo.

It was only afternoon, but Shizuo already knew that it was going to be a bad day.

The first thing that happened was he woke up at three-something in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep, which already put him in a shitty mood. To make things even worse, he was so tired that he forgot how tall he was and accidentally hit his head against the door frame on his way out.

All of this culminated into one dark miasma hanging over him, and he wasn't sure he could handle any more bullshit without his temper snapping. (Even on a normal day, he could barely handle any bullshit without his temper snapping.)

That's how he ended up walking to a nearby bakery in the city. He needed something to curb his temper—at least then he would have a marginally bigger buffer in case he saw the flea during the day.

Unfortunately, being a teenager meant that the most he could afford from the bakery was a small piece of coffee cake and a bottle of milk, but it was enough to lift the damper on his mood just a little.

Leaning against a wall outside, Shizuo lit up a cigarette, his thoughts absently traveling to that girl—Amane Kei, wasn't it? She seemed like a nice person, although not very expressive.

Shizuo mentally chastised himself—someone like him wasn't in any position to criticize how emotional another person was. Although, there was definitely something about her that made her stand out from the crowd.

Maybe it was the fact that she was the first person to give him a genuine apology, even though he was the one at fault. Most of the apologies he got were desperate pleas from annoying gang members that realized they were in over their heads.

When she got caught in the crossfire, he certainly didn't expect her to say anything. Actually, he really didn't know what to expect. Usually, girls that came into contact with him were terrified beyond belief, but Kei didn't really seem to care. To be fair, they had gone to the same grade school, but since he hadn't remembered her, he expected she wouldn't remember him, either.

No, that wasn't true. People always knew who he was—he was the crazy guy with superhuman strength and a hair-trigger temper. No one would ever forget him, despite his wishes that they would.

Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Shizuo was just about to leave until a familiar face caught his eye. He had to squint a little to see clearly, but even from that distance he could recognize the girl who had just occupied his thoughts. Mentally debating whether or not he should approach her, he ultimately decided that he shouldn't bother her (as she seemed to have her arms full with grocery shopping) and was about to turn away until another familiar face—one that made his blood boil—entered his peripheral vision.

Without even thinking, his hand shot out and grabbed the nearest throwable object. Feeling his fingers clamp around the corner of a vending machine, his finished cigarette was dropped, its ashes crushed beneath his foot. Two hands, he needed two hands to pull the machine off its hinges and chuck it at that bastard's face!

The crowd immediately scattered once he heaved the large machine above his head, giving him a clear view of his target—and of someone else. The vending machine creaked as he hesitated upon seeing Kei standing in the way, completely unaware of the hurricane standing just a few meters away.

Move, goddamnit, just move already!

He watched her walk away, as if trying to avoid something, until that bastard grabbed her wrist—and then he saw the dark bruise coloring her skin.

Oh, I get it now.

Without a moment's hesitation, Shizuo reared back and threw the vending machine as hard as he could, the momentum carrying him forward a few steps. The metal box whipped in front of Kei's face, crashing violently against Izaya's body and sending him sprawling to the ground.

After taking a moment to breathe, Shizuo marched forward to where the flea was beginning to pick himself up, ready to pummel his head into the concrete. However, before he could, Kei stepped in front of him, her ever-calm expression suddenly extremely infuriating.

"Get out of my way!"

"Shizuo-san, you should not overexert yourself—"

"I don't give a damn!" he growled, attempting to push past her. Reflexively, Kei held her injured wrist close to her chest, and a sour feeling of guilt began to pool in Shizuo's stomach. His mouth opened, an apology already forming on his tongue, but she cut him off.

"Don't apologize—this was my fault, not his," she said, glancing offhandedly at Izaya, who was watching them with a smirk on his face (even though his shoulder was clearly dislocated).

"Oh, is Kei-chan trying to protect me? How flattering!"

Shizuo snarled and uprooted a stop sign, which only served to stretch Izaya's twisted smile. Backing up a few steps, he gave Kei a small wave before turning tail and running (or, more accurately, limping at a fast pace) in the opposite direction.

"Bye-bye, Kei-chan! It was nice seeing you!" he called, quickly hopping to the left after the sign Shizuo was holding speared into the ground next to him like an Olympian's javelin.

Shizuo immediately lunged forward, about to give chase, until he caught a glance at the pitiful picture Kei was.

Her wrist was bruised and limp, her hair loose from its braid, and the bags she was carrying were tattered—overall, she looked like a mess. Guilt overpowered his primal urge to destroy Izaya, and he silently walked over to her.

"Do you... need to go to the hospital?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

Her response was almost immediate.

"No," she replied quickly. Noticing his slightly surprised expression, Kei attempted to smooth over her answer. "I'm not sure I have enough money for it."

Sensing her hesitation, Shizuo decided not to push it. He didn't know her that well, anyway.

"I have a friend nearby who can help," he said, turning around and walking away. After he noticed that she wasn't following behind, he glanced over his shoulder and fixed her with a look that was one part confusion and one part annoyance. "What're you standing there for?"

Kei, as if snapping out of a trance, nodded quickly and caught up to him, muttering a small "sorry" in response. However, he didn't continue his stride—instead, he held his hand out. She gave him a curious glance.

"Let me carry your bags," he offered. (Well, the way he said it made it seem more like an order than an offer.)

"It's fine, I can—"

"Just let me do it," he sighed. "I'm not gonna stand by like some asshole while you carry things with a broken wrist."

Kei, understanding that now was not the time to argue, wordlessly passed the bags over to him. He held them all in one hand, and for a fleeting moment she thought about how little those grocery bags weighed to him. To him, they were probably as heavy as silk pillowcases.

As they entered a fancy-looking apartment building, Kei observed Shizuo quietly. His expression was composed, but she could sense an underlying anger simmering beneath the surface. He was probably still mad that Izaya had escaped, and Kei momentarily shared the sentiment. After she had figured out that Izaya was the one who convinced that lunatic to pursue her, her hand itched to slap him for it. In the end, she ruled against it, as he probably expected that from her and would only serve to humiliate her further.

She had layers of self-control ingrained into her brain, her muscles, every fiber of her being.

Shizuo did not.

Kei hadn't known him for that long (well, she knew of him, but she didn't know him), but it didn't take a genius for someone to see that he had a delicate temper—actually, "delicate" would be an understatement. Before meeting Shizuo, Kei never knew the overwhelming velocity a person could have after being punched into the air.

But even though Izaya always described him as a monster, Kei believed she had never met anyone so undeniably human.

From what she had seen so far, his entire personality only seemed to revolve around raw emotion, and all of his decisions were made in the moment he was presented them. She admired him for that.

She envied him, too.

Shizuo, noticing her shoulders tense up in (what he assumed was) nervousness, tried to reassure her. "Don't worry about anything. Shinra may be an idiot, but he's an idiot you can trust."

Kei blinked up at him in surprise, the fluorescent lights of the elevator making her eyes shine. "Kishitani-san?"

Shizuo gave her a curious glance. I probably forgot to tell her who it was. "Yeah."

"Is he a mob doctor?"

Shizuo shrugged. "You said you didn't want to go to a hospital."

Kei couldn't argue with that.

With a quiet ring, the elevator doors opened. Shizuo walked out casually, familiar with the environment due to the many times he visited the pseudo-doctor for his own injuries. Kei was more cautious, though, as the image of an underground doctor put many strange expectations in her mind. At any moment, she thought a yakuza member would burst through the door with three bullets in his chest, screaming curses about extortion and debt.

A few moments after Shizuo rang the doorbell, there was the sound of muffled footsteps, and the door clicked open to reveal... the Black Rider?

Shizuo raised his hand in greeting. "Hey, Celty."

Kei tilted her head to the side. "Cel-ty?"

The woman quickly tapped a message into her PDA, holding it out in front of Kei. [I hope you don't mind me asking, but who are you?]

Suddenly remembering her manners, Kei bowed in front of her. "My name is Amane Kei. I'm sorry for intruding."

The strange woman was in the middle of typing a response when a strong force barreled into her.

"Celty, who is it? You ran to the door so quickly, I thought—" After noticing Shizuo and Kei standing in the doorway, Shinra stood up straight and adjusted his glasses. "Amane-san, what are you doing here?"

Kei gently lifted her wrist. "I injured my wrist, but I didn't want to go to a hospital, so Shizuo-san brought me here." Her eyes were apologetic. "I hope I'm not being a burden—"

Shinra enthusiastically waved her off. "Nonsense, you're not a burden at all!" He quickly ushered the two inside, staying behind as they entered the foyer. However, before he could follow them, Celty tapped his shoulder, displaying a message on her PDA.

[Shinra, does that girl go to your school?]

He gave her a curious glance. "Yeah, she's in the same year as me and Shizuo. Why? Do you know her?"

[No, it's just... there's a strange aura around her. I sensed it when I opened the door.]

"Seriously?"

[Yeah. Would it be rude if I asked her?]

"Maybe it would be better if you talked to her about it in private."

[I guess you're right.]

Celty slid the PDA into her sleeve and walked into the foyer, Shinra closely following behind. Kneeling down in front of Kei, he gently grasped her wrist and gave her an easy-going smile.

"I'm just going to see where it hurts, okay? Tell me if you feel a sore spot."

Kei nodded, watching as he lightly pressed at the bruise on her wrist. When his fingers prodded a certain spot, a spark of pain shot up her arm, and she winced.

Observant as always, Shinra stopped and turned her wrist over in his hand, observing it meticulously. "It looks like your wrist is broken, so I'm going to have to reset it. I'll give you a splint and some medicine that should help with the pain—"

"That will not be necessary."

Shinra paused for a second, shooting her a skeptical look, but he shrugged her comment off nonetheless. After giving her a moment to brace herself, he reset her wrist in one swift motion. Kei grit her teeth at the unpleasant sensation, her fingers curling into the couch cushion as a searing pain took over her arm—and then it was gone.

Shinra gaped at her in surprise as the bruise slowly disappeared, watching Kei's fingers twitch as they regained movement. After stretching her left hand a couple of times, she sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Kishitani-san."

Shinra, who was still lingering in the after-effects of shock, quickly regained his bearings. "D-Don't worry about it, Amane-san."

Noticing his expression of disbelief, she sighed quietly. "I'm sorry if I've startled you."

Celty was quick to type a message as Shinra, overcome with fascination, began to examine Kei's wrist again like a young boy playing with a model train. [Don't worry, it was just a little unexpected. Not that there's anything wrong with that, though!]

Kei's shoulders relaxed noticeably. "That's a relief." Then, she gave them a curt bow before standing up from her seat on the couch. "Thank you for your help, Kishitani-san, but I should be leaving—"

[Wait, before you go!]

She stopped. "What is it?"

There was the sound of clicking buttons, and then the screen was thrust in front of her again. [Don't take this the wrong way, but is it alright if I talked with you a bit?]

Kei held her chin in thought. "I have no problem with talking, but today is a bit inconvenient, and my sister is waiting for me at home..."

[Would another day work for you?]

"I could visit later in the week—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Kei was cut off by a loud noise. Looking toward the source, she saw Shizuo returning from his smoke break on the balcony—funnily enough, her grocery bags were still in his other hand. Kei discreetly hid her (previously) injured wrist as his eyes met hers.

He pinched his burnt cigarette between his fingers. "Is your wrist okay?"

She nodded. "It was only sprained, so it should heal in a few days." Without waiting for a response, she quickly took her bags from his hand and gave the group a parting wave. "I should go, Aki-nee is waiting for me at home. Thank you all for your help."

And with a click of the door, she was gone.

Celty and Shinra shared a glance before both heads turned to look at Shizuo. He side-eyed them in return.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Shinra smiled cheekily at his friend. "I was just thinking about how Shizuo-kun has secretly been a big softie all this time—gah!"

Shizuo growled, delivering a swift flick to the underground doctor's forehead (that alone was enough to send him sprawling over the couch). "You got a death wish or something?"

"My sincerest apologies."

Shizuo only huffed and made for the door, leaving Celty to tend to Shinra's bruised forehead (and dignity).

Akira whistled as she buttered a piece of toast, casting a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. 3:00 PM. Kei-chan will probably be home soon.

Sticking the piece of toast between her teeth, she grabbed the TV remote and plopped down on the couch, her body sinking into the soft cushions like jelly. The painkillers she had taken a little while earlier were starting to kick in, making her limbs feel like stretchy rubber. She idly picked apart the sentences flashing on the screen—something or other about a double-homicide near the edge of Ikebukuro.

Suddenly, her phone began vibrating, causing Akira to jump slightly. Perhaps the gory tune of the news was putting her slightly on edge.

After clicking the remote's power button, she flipped open her phone and read the screen. Huh, it's Ayumi. Christ, don't tell me she got back together with Ryuuji again...

Pressing the 'answer' button with a sigh, Akira held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Aki-chan? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear you, Ayumi."

"Good. Are you at home right now?"

"Yeah, why? Is there a party I'm missing or something?"

"No, no, not that. Look, I was talking to Ryuu-kun a little while ago—"

Akira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ayumi, if you're dating him again—"

"No, it's not that."

She sat up, slightly confused. Whenever she teased Ayumi, her friend would usually snap back with an equally sassy retort.

Something was wrong.

"What is it, Ayumi?" Akira pressed, more hurriedly this time.

"Okay, so I was talking to Ryuu—"

"Yes, I know that, but what happened?"

"He said he got a call from one of his friends—Hiro, I think. Apparently, Tetsuo's dad posted bail—"

Akira's breath stopped short. "W-What?"

There was a tense pause.

"Akira, Tetsuo's been released from prison—"

Her heart filled with dread.

"—and he's asking for you."

A lurching sickness pooled in Akira's stomach, and her hand limply dropped to the side. The phone fell to the ground and snapped shut, cutting off Ayumi's worried exclamations. Akira violently kicked it away, as if it were a filthy animal trying to attack her.

Leaping off of the sofa, she sped into the bathroom and fell to her knees, coughing bile into the toilet. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she choked, her sobs mixing with the sound of her retching.

With that one phone call, her peaceful days had come to an end.

And just like that—BOOM! The backstory has kicked in!

Sorry for the long chapter today. I'm not really proud of this one, mainly because I felt like the last few scenes were just dragging on and on. Or maybe that's just me. Leave your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!

Hopefully I didn't mess up the characterization—Shizuo is surprisingly hard to write for a guy that usually doesn't say that much. Also, please let me know if you like Kei and Akira as characters! I'm really trying to make them seem interesting, so please tell me if you have any constructive criticism for me!